


A Hard Man is Good to Find

by Metrickulous



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexuality Spectrum, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metrickulous/pseuds/Metrickulous
Summary: Even when he's dead, Lorne Malvo still works as a bounty hunter. This time he's kidnapped an odd man who's alive in the land of the dead.





	A Hard Man is Good to Find

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the title. A quick story of character development for me and entertainment for you.
> 
> This story is from Malvo’s perspective and his racist language does not reflect my thoughts.

Malvo tightened the binds behind the Indian man’s back. He had heard of the man’s slippery nature when he took on the bounty hunting job. ‘The Sioux’. That was his nickname. Anyone with a nickname based on his blood was certainly slick. The second thing he learned was new to him; Sioux was still living.  
Lorne Malvo knew he himself was dead. Or at least, he was aware that he had died. In this new reality he was living in, it was like he’d sidestepped into another universe, filled with people who’d also perished. He shared this world with people who’d also been killed, and with strange interlopers who were still alive, apparently.  
The Sioux man took a seat on the motel bed, legs crossed, like he’d been invited inside, not kidnapped. He looked at the TV on the dresser and began searching for the remote. He was in for a disappointment.  
There was a TV set in Malvo’s room, but nothing to watch. The remote was blank, just a rectangle with no buttons. When Malvo tried turning it on manually, the screen was just black. Sioux contemplated the smooth remote. “Huh.”  
“Sorry, we don’t get reruns of the Lone Ranger out here.”  
Sioux ignored his insensitive comment. “Each channel on the TV is like a different window looking into the land of the living. All the channels are different people in your life, so you can watch family, lovers, friends. Of course, most people’s remotes have buttons.”  
“I don’t have any friends,” said Malvo without a hint of emotion.  
Sioux looked around the room, maybe for something to read to pass the time, but Malvo’s room was bare.  
“So, what do we do now?” the man asked.  
He was chatty. Not like Malvo wasn’t chatty himself, but he was used to dominating the conversation.  
“We wait, unless you have something else in mind.”  
The man shrugged. “You could fuck me.”  
It was not an unheard of request. Usually when his victims suggested it, it was following them begging for the exchange of their life. Malvo had obliged at times. He was never attracted to any of them. He wasn’t attracted to anyone, sexually. But he found sex useful. It got him closer to targets, it relieved stress at times. And it felt good, of course.  
He could see how Sioux was attractive. He had the long, black hair that was typical of midwestern Indians. But his face wasn’t hard or stoic; it was curious, cheerful, trustworthy.  
Malvo prepared them both; he was used to working alone. Sioux wriggled in his binds partly for his own pleasure and to guide Malvo’s trajectory.  
But something was not working. After a few moments, both of them felt that this wasn’t going anywhere; it was as mechanical as a handshake.  
“So… weather’s been nice.” The Indian man was mocking the situation with small talk.  
“Really? The weather?” It wasn’t even nice. The weather was grey and shit.  
“Ok, got any life stories to share?”  
Malvo paused in thought. “When I was undercover, I almost married a woman who would slip her thumb in my ass during sex.”  
Now Sioux laughed. It was loud and unrestrained. Free, unlike his arms pinned behind him. He couldn’t even wipe the tears from his eyes.  
“You don’t seem like the marrying type,” said Sioux.  
“I killed her before the wedding,” Malvo said, deadpan.  
“Naturally… I don’t think I could persuade you into untying my hands to oblige you a thumb?”  
“Nice try, but no. I didn’t enjoy the thumb much, anyway.”  
“Well, what do you like?”  
Malvo leaned in close to the Indian man’s face. “I like to watch them struggle.” He grasped the man’s left nipple and twisted ferociously. The look of surprise and pain on Sioux’s face gave Malvo his first twinge of that ride of pleasure.  
But it wasn’t enough. Of all the people Malvo had fucked, they’d either been overly eager like his ex-fiance, and he just had to hang on for the ride, or they were begging and disgusted with themselves, and Malvo felt like a wolf closing in on his prey. But now it wasn’t enough, because the Indian man wasn’t afraid. Sioux was all too observant of the situation.  
“What else? … do you like? … humiliation?” he asked, panting. Sioux put on a Minnesotan accent and started to whine. “Oh god...oh no... Oh geez.”  
That one phrase… he sounded like that man Malvo blamed for his demise. Lester Nygaard. In Malvo’s mind, Lester was more responsible for his death than the man who actually pulled the trigger on him (several times, he would brag). Now the phrase brought the searing image of Lester’s face into Malvo’s mind.  
Malvo felt a predator rise inside him, like a wolf rising.  
Sioux continued, “oh geez… my wife can’t find out about this!”  
“You killed your wife,” said Malvo. “Because of me.”  
Sioux went with it, “oh geez. You made me kill my wife! I killed her because of you! She’s dead, oh god, she’s dead.”  
It was like listening to one of Malvo’s beloved tapes, which were left behind in the land of the living. Of all the things he missed in life, the tapes were one of the things he missed the most. They were his greatest hits, after all. He liked the way men begged in different ways. Some pleaded, some were utterly at a loss of what to do. And all of them had done his bidding, all of them were under his subtle spell. He’d listened to Nygaard’s tape many times in his final year. He wondered where that weasley asshole was now. In jail? No, he was too petrified of facing the consequences. On the run? He was too weak for the wild. Definitely dead. Imagine the look on Lester’s face if Malvo were to meet him in the afterlife.  
Malvo finished to the thought of Lester Nygaard’s terrified face as Malvo grasped his throat. 

“I have a proposition for you,” said Malvo, as he absentmindedly cleaned himself up. The Sioux lay on the bed, hands still pinned behind his back, exposed, pants around his knees. “I heard you had a penchant for finding people. If you were to find someone for me, I could forgo this bounty on your head.”  
Sioux looked up at the ceiling and smiled. Even the people he couldn’t fool still ended up doing what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I got asexual vibes from Malvo when watching Fargo, or at least like he saw sex as a tool rather than something he actively sought. If that isn’t your interpretation, that’s fine; multiple interpretations can exist in peace.


End file.
